


Confessions to the Dead

by Judgement



Series: Rift [7]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judgement/pseuds/Judgement
Summary: He’d treat you like a Queen, he’d ask you to marry him, he’d give you everything and anything you asked.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Caster/Reader
Series: Rift [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928569
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86





	Confessions to the Dead

When the world was silent despite the chaos on the battlefield, it became surreal. Warmth trickled down the side of your face and you instinctively reached up to swipe at it, pulling your hand back to examine. You thought it would be sweat. The heat of the battlefield and attacks that servants slung at one another felt like a heatwave. But the red that stained your fingertips told you it was anything but. That the last explosion did something far worse. Your heart skipped a beat, thudded heavily in your chest, and you felt it more than you heard it. 

When you looked up at the surrounding field, everything felt slow. Robbing you of your hearing dulled the overstimulation that normally bombarded your senses. What remained felt heightened with the adrenaline that injected into your system. You took shallow breaths, attempting not to throw yourself into shock over your sudden deafness. It was just another reminder of how dangerous all of this was. Another scar and mark on your being that told the tales you couldn’t. 

Your eyes met wide, vermillion ones that stared at you in a mix of shock and horror. Battle worn with more wounds littered on his body and blood that dried. He gripped his axe in a vice and the stone tablet hovered beside him, with spells and runes you couldn’t read flashing about. He opened his mouth and shouted but you found your eyes drawn to something else. A gut instinct that told you to look to your left. And you caught the enemy rider in the distance as they charged toward Gilgamesh. Your breath caught, hitched and stuck to your throat. Struck by panic, you forgot that despite your sudden loss of hearing you could still speak, you could warn the King. 

But even if you did, something else grabbed his attention, intent on drawing it away from the encroaching rider. Your warning would go unheard anyway and you moved, at a loss for what else you could do. Because you couldn’t lose Gilgamesh, too. You lost everyone else; Romani, Mash, Da Vinci. The body pile kept rising and you couldn’t bear the weight of another failure on your shoulders. To hold Gilgamesh as he returned to the throne. Knowing the off chance that even if you summoned him again, he might not remember you.

It was an unbearable, unfathomable thought. You would sooner cast the rest of humanity, the rest of eternity, into hell if it meant you could save him. Save the last person who you held so dear, who had been with you since the beginning. Your chest tightened, made it hard to breathe, but the world felt slow. Your loss of hearing turned out to be a blessing if that ended up being why. You’d thank whatever God had abandoned you for that one miracle. You felt your heart, your shallow, rapid breaths as the world drowned away, tunneled into saving your King. It’s the only thing you hear aside from the fear that screamed at you to save him.

The Wise King knelt on the ground, one hand covered a wound he received from the enemy servant he just put down. He’s surprised and it showed on his face when you skid to a stop behind him with your arms thrust open wide. He grit his teeth as he turned to scold you for being in the thick of battle where you could get hurt. 

The words die though, and his mind blanked when something warm and wet hit his face. When the spear of a weapon, coated in your blood hovered near his face. He choked on the scream that tore out of him, on the horror that sunk in his gut as they ripped the spear from your chest. He opened his arms and caught you as you fell back. Your other servants instantly closed the distance, pushing back the rider while Gilgamesh clung onto you tightly. He refused to let you go, to believe that you were dying even though he knew the wound was fatal from a glance. You would not come back from it. 

You wheezed and coughed, a cruel and wet sound from deep within your chest and lungs as they filled with blood. You were crying and so was he as he begged you not to go. That he needed you and all the arrogance in the world couldn’t keep him from saying it, from _begging_ you to hang on. He’d treat you like a Queen, he’d ask you to marry him, he’d give you everything and anything you asked. 

You smiled at him as the light in your eyes dulled considerably. Blood dripped like vomit from your mouth and he wiped it away with a trembling hand. 

“Stay with me, I’ll do anything. Please, I love you. _Please,_ just don't go.” 

He begged and pressed his forehead to yours. Held you tight and watched as his tears dripped onto your cheeks and the light in your eyes left. The King leaned back, panicked gaze searching your face for any sign of life. One hand cradled the side of your face, pulling back only when he felt blood and tilted your head to the side. The drying path of red from your ears told him things he wished it didn’t. He felt like his heart dropped into his gut before something ripped it from his stomach. The tears began anew and he hugged your body close, pressed his face into your collar and wailed into it like the broken man your death made him.

You died in his arms without ever hearing him say he loved you.


End file.
